Weekend Expectations
by annastern2009
Summary: 12-Year-Old Sammy contemplates what his weekend is going to look like, growing more agitated by the minute. That is, until a certain visitor interupts his thoughts.  The story is better than my summary, I think


Sammy stayed curled up in the cheap motel seat, his arms folded around his legs, his eyes on the rain falling down the window in curtains. His homework for the weekend was already done, he had finished it as soon as he got home on Friday. It was only Friday night and he was already waiting for Monday to come around. The constant moving, the new schools every other week, he didn't enjoy it. He hated moving so much, but he loved school. It let him focus on something, anything, other than the dingy hotel bed he had to sleep on, sometimes the floor depending on the situation.

The long breath that he let out fogged up the window, making the rain harder to see. Letting one of his hands uncurl from his long legs, he leaned up, writting "Help" in the condensation.

He just wanted to get out here, to do something other than sit in the damn hotel room. He wasn't 'old' enough though. He knew that Dean had went with their dad at twelve, but they were both treating him like some fragile little doll that couldn't help. It itched his mind in a bad way. He wasn't a fucking fragile doll that couldn't help.

Sam's boredem was slowly ebbing away into Anger. He wanted out! He wanted to go help! He didn't even know what they were doing it, but damn it, anything had to be better than sitting here alone!

Just as his anger had started to win, his hand reaching for the pay-per-minute phone that Dad had given him for emergencies, the lock on the door started to jingle, causing his eyes to go wide. He slowly ebbed to the side, his hand reaching down under his pillow for the butterfly knife that he kept there for emergencies. As his fingers pushed into it, he quietly edged the blade open, holding it against his back. He knew what to do, in this situation more than any other. Self Protection was the one skill that they made sure he mastered. It was essential, they told him, to know how to use a knife and where to stab someone to give you time to either kill them, or run.

The knife slowly came out from behind his back as the door edged up. He had just started to roll over to the other side of the bed and onto the floor when the figure in the doorway started to shake his head around, sending rain everywhere as he chuckled darkly under his breath. "You're a lucky kid that I didn't trip, that rain may as well be fuckin' Ice, Sammy. Your dinner would have been toast."

The most Sam could do was blink up into the eyes of his big brother as the door was slammed shut - not out of anger or annoyance, it was just how Dean was. He didn't do things quietly or pay attention to his volume. His eyes stayed on Dean as he moved across the small room in three easy strides, the take-out boxes falling onto the small round table top. "I got you a chicken salad, princess. Since i know you're watching your figure and all. Did Johnny ask you out, is that why you wanna lose the pounds?" The laugh made his brow furrow, the words having completely lost their target.

"Dean?"

Sam continued to just... stare as his brother turned, finally taking in his knelt figure, the open blade in his hand and the startled expression on his face. "Sammy? You alright, kiddo?"

He slowly shook his head, standing up, his thumb closing the blade before he let it drop onto the bed. "What are you doing here? You.. You left right after school to go with Dad, remember? You told me to salt the door because you wouldn't be home." He knew word for word exactly what had been told him to him, he always did. He may have hated how they lived, but he knew better than to argue, knew better than to disobey orders. It was all life-or-death, he knew that. Dean wouldn't have said that and then just went back on his words.

"No, Sam. I said I was going _out_, I didn't say with Dad." The scoff that Sam heard from his brother was obvious, he wasn't even trying to hide his amusement with the situation as he turned, sorting out the take-out boxes as he spoke. "I told dad I was staying here this time. You've been alone enough, I knew it was starting to get to ya. I went to a movie with Vanessa after Dad spoke to me outside. Took her home, then came back." He could hear something else behind his brother's words, and when Dean turned to look at him, he knew instantly what it was. The half-grin, half-smirk on his lips told Sam exactly what they had done, movie or not. If there was one thing he had to worry about, it wasn't missing out on the sex talk.

He watched Dean for a moment, before he felt his lips tug up instantly, his dangly legs pulling him forward as he hurried towards the taller male. His arms wrapped easily around his brother, his face pushing into his stomach. So what if he was twelve years old, and his brother was sixteen. So what if his brother hated to hear the words "I love you", let alone be hugged like this. But he was so sure it was another weekend of just sitting on the bed watching TV by himself again. Finding out that his brother had stayed behind? Stayed behind specfically cause he knew Sam was getting tired of being alone? Well, it was as close to "I care and I'm here for you" he would probably ever get from Dean.

"Thanks, Dean." The awkward pat he got to his back made him look up, and the confussion on his brother's face only made him smile wider. He wouldn't explain things, not right now. All the anger he had earlier, the sheer boredm that had hit him while he watched the rain seemed to just disappear. Dean would make sure they did something fun, even if it was just playing a stupid game in the hotel room or going for a walk to the gas station tomorrow afternoon.

As he pulled away, instantly turning and digging through the different boxes till he found the one with the salad in it, he snatched up a fork, shoving a lot into his mouth. "You okay, Sammy? You're acting high or something. Paranoid, hungry. Did someone give you some weed and you didn't share?" He merely rolled his eyes as he kicked his foot out at his brother, hitting the side of his leg as he turned to plop onto the bed.

When Dean mumbled under his breath about getting him back later, moving to sit on the other bd, Sam just smiled. So maybe this weekened wasn't going to suck afterall. Between the fresh food and actual company, especially his brother? Yeah. Things were looking up.


End file.
